


Trying to Find the In-Between

by hato



Series: Young Blood [2]
Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Humor, M/M, PTSD, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hato/pseuds/hato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of vignettes set within the premise of <i> Fall Back in Love Eventually.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embarrassment, It Happens

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Marcus and Esca and Uncle belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe.
> 
>  **Inspired by and Title borrowed from:** _Young Blood_ by The Naked and Famous.
> 
>  **A/N:** A mix of short pieces written either for my own self-indulgence or for Annie :) Previously posted on eljay and ffnet quite a while back. 
> 
> **Story Notes:** This occurs perhaps a year before the events of _Fall Back in Love Eventually_. So they’ve been together for a little less than a year... my chronology is always kinda loose, lol.

  
  
Marcus can’t wipe the shit eating grin from his face.  It’s almost as big as Esca’s.   
  
Last night. Last night had been amazing. Incredible. Perfect.   
  
Marcus is limping worse than usual. Esca is awkwardly hunched over.   
  
They’ll both be sore for days. The good kind of sore.   
  
“ C’mere.” Marcus slides both arms around Esca, nearly lifting him off the floor as he presses a deep kiss on his mouth.  He holds Esca against him. Enjoys the strength of those wiry arms wrapped around his middle.  Straight edged teeth worrying his lower lip.   
  
Esca breaks away first, grunting at the strain on his lower back, fingers tickling Marcus’ side. “ Go back to bed or you’re not gonna make it through your shift today.”  He laughs, hand on the back door, turning the handle. “ Love you. See you la-”  
  
Marcus leans in, quick as a snake, getting in another snog as the door opens. Risky. Very risky. But it’s early morning on Marcus’ quiet street and no one is going to be peeking over into the back garden at this-  
  
A low cough. Someone clearing their throat. Someone standing on Marcus’ stoop. Right outside the back door.  
  
Uncle Max.   
  
Marcus swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry.  He can’t see Esca’s face. But Esca’s ears are flaming a particularly brilliant shade of humiliation. All Marcus hears is the exceedingly polite, “ Good morning, Mr. Aquila,” which his uncle affably returns with a small nod.  Esca ducks around the tall man, practically running to his motorcycle. He never looks back as he hurriedly rolls the bike out the back gate. And Marcus doesn’t blame him.   
  
The two men on the porch simply stare at each other as the noise of the engine fades into the distance.  Uncle Max smiles pleasantly. Marcus flushes just as brightly as Esca’s ears. He clears his throat, looks up with a certain sense of doom. “ Uncle, uh... good morning?”   
  
“ Good morning to you, as well, Marcus!”  Uncle Max’s breath steams in the cold air. A grinning dragon in the morning mists. His face is completely open, pleasant and inviting. Meaning Marcus is unable to read the man’s true opinion of the event he just witnessed. “ I just returned from my morning constitutional and thought you’d might like to join this old man for breakfast. Perhaps catch up a bit; I’ve seen so little of you since the new quarter started.”   
  
Marcus’ mouth opens and closes with no ready reply.   
  
Uncle Max’s smile broadens. “ Oh good! Grab your coat then, my boy!”  He is already turning, stepping off the porch.   
  
Marcus mentally flails for a moment. And then gives in.  He jogs to the front of his home, grabbing his coat and shoving his socked feet into his unlaced boots. Uncle Max is humming quietly in the garden, frost covered grass crunching underfoot.  Just waiting.   
  
Marcus has been expecting this for months, since Esca began sleeping over. Eventually, even his non-meddling uncle would take notice and interest in Marcus’ new relationship.  As much as his uncle keeps to himself, the man’s powers of observation make him a formidable neighbor and father-figure.   
  
Stupid to think Uncle would let this continue without giving his thoughts on the matter .  
  
Marcus simply hopes it will be in his favor.   
  
He doesn’t bother with the house keys. Marcus shuffles out the backdoor, making sure it’s not locked so he can get back in when this little meeting ends. He hopes it will be brief and not too unpleasant.  
  
Uncle continues his bland smile as they walk out the garden gate, turn left, and enter Uncle’s garden gate.   
  
Inside, it is only vaguely warmer than outside and filled with the smell of cooking rashers.  Marcus keeps his coat on and carefully toes off his boots in the back entry.  Uncle Max hangs his coat on the peg and slips into the jumper and slippers waiting for him.    
  
Marcus follows the older man, smiling as he realizes their similar mannerisms; hands in pockets, slouching along at a leisurely pace up the stairs. His uncle opens the door to his study and ushers Marcus inside. Nothing is said as they sit in the worn out easy chairs, small table between them already home to two plated fry-ups and a coffee pot. Marcus pours for them both as his uncle settles in.   
  
Uncle murmurs his thanks and accepts the warmed cup. And stares out the large dormer window in between bites of egg and toast.   
  
Apparently, this is going to take longer than just one cup of coffee.  
  
Marcus says nothing, merely drinks from his own cup and tries to enjoy the strong flavor of black coffee mellowed with the barest hint of milk.  He stares out the window, as well. The houses across the street are single story, giving his side of the street a lovely view over the rooftops. Mostly of the nearby park’s wide expanse of trees, the sun rising above them in a slow smudge of yellow and pink.  He stifles a yawn. Not much sleep had been had last night.   
  
It slowly dawns on Marcus that perhaps his uncle heard them. Grunts and groans, overused mattress springs, headboard thumping against the wall.   
  
Marcus’ scream of ecstasy that was not muffled quickly enough.   
  
The thought creeps him out in a variety of ways, causing him to squirm. Squirming agitates the ache in his arse and Marcus stills instantly, shoves an entire tomato slice into his mouth. Glances at Uncle Max. The older man doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort. Makes no mention of Marcus’ suddenly red face.   
  
Uncle pours himself another cup. Marcus stares at his plate.  
  
“ So... how are your studies proceeding?”    
  
Marcus starts slightly at the question, fork scraping against the plate. “ Oh, uh, good. Good.”  He chews a bite of sausage, struggles to find more to say. “ Busy, of course, with spring so close. Not long before the foaling starts and we’re trying to keep track of the mares.”  He moves his foot along the floor, toe following a groove between the planks. “ Lots of freshers to look after this quarter. I think Dr. Stephens’ is trying to load me up in the hope of scaring me off. He thinks he’s going to head the clinic until he’s in the ground.”    
  
“ Most old people think that.”  Uncle smiles and nods, holding his cup close. He sips slowly, barely lowering the cup before speaking again. “ Are you still planning on striking out on your own in the near future?  Start a private clinic in the country?”    
  
“ Be the next James Herriot?” Marcus smirks, freshens the cooling coffee in his cup.  Splash of milk diluting the steam.“  Yes, that’s still my plan. Maybe not as soon as I’d like, but I’ll get there.”  He hadn’t expected to be involved with Esca when he’d made those plans. Had to make adjustments to his timeline. “ I think I’ll hang on at the college clinic, save up some more money. Get a bigger place.”  Marcus gives a small shrug and finishes off his eggs.   
  
“ Very reasonable. I’m glad you’re thinking about the future. Have goals. “ Uncle agrees in his mild voice. He looks out the window, a bite of rasher on his fork, hovering above his plate for a moment before being lifted to his mouth.   
  
Marcus sips his coffee and watches his uncle chew, waiting.  He doesn’t have to wait long.  
  
“ I couldn’t help but notice the MacCunoval boy- oh dear, what’s his name, again?”   
  
“ Esca.”  Marcus steels himself. He introduced Esca to his Uncle over a year ago, when they were nothing more than friends. Since then, their interactions have been rare but amiable.   
  
“ Yes, Esca, of course. I couldn’t help but notice he was here this morning. Visiting.”  Uncle Max pauses to drink.   
  
Marcus swallows his toast and quickly takes a drink of his own. His mouth feels very dry. “ Yes.”  He pokes at the rashers, pushing them around the plate with his fork.  
  
Uncle continues to eat and talk intermittently, with a casual air. “ He visits quite often.”   
  
“ I s’pose so.” Marcus chews on the inside of his lower lip. He can’t tell where his uncle is going with this. “ We work together, as well. I’m helping him with his classes. Projects and things.”   
  
“ Ah, well, then...”  Uncle looks up from his plate, expectant expression. “ Are you going to be asking him to move in any time soon? Or are you waiting to get that bigger place you just spoke of?”   
  
Marcus is glad he stopped eating. He would have choked otherwise.  Staring hard at his plate, Marcus busies himself with cutting his sausage with the side of his fork. “ What are you talking about?”  Ignorance. Always claim ignorance.  
  
“ You know exactly what I’m talking about, Marcus. “ Uncle gently chides him, settling back in his chair with a fresh cup of coffee. Gaze steady on the younger man. “ You can’t possibly think I’m unaware of what’s been going on. Really, my boy, I’m rather offended.”   
  
He drops his fork. It hits the plate with a sharp clink. Marcus opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and shuts it. He chews on his lower lip again.  Uncle says nothing, merely gazes placidly over the coffee cup.     
  
Marcus steadies his breathing, clasps his hands in his lap under the table. He’s at a loss as how to proceed.   
  
“ He seems like an exceptional young man, this Esca. “  Uncle picks up the conversation again. “ Polite, obviously. Respectful. Intelligent, I’ve gathered from our conversations.”  He chuckles quietly. “ Certainly a bit of temper, as well, but not necessarily a mark against him.”   Uncle sighs and lowers the cup to the table. “ Did I misinterpret?  Just a fling, perhaps? Experimenting with your options? ”   
  
“ No!”  It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. Marcus takes in a deep breath, attempting to clear away the panic. He needs to be calm. “ No. Esca and I... ”   Marcus closes his eyes and slumps back in the chair. He needs to be candid, speak freely. To go for broke. “ Aren’t you upset that I’m seeing” -he can’t say _sleeping with_ -“ Esca? And, you know... not a girl.”  He had been expecting something of an uproar over the discovery of his sexual preferences. Marcus certainly couldn’t imagine his father being happy with his choice of bed partner.  Uncle Max is his father’s brother, the closest thing to a father that Marcus has had in years.   
  
Uncle chuckles again. He seems even more amused by Marcus than before, his smile broad.“ Marcus, it’s your life; you have the right to choose who you’d like to spend it with. To hell with what anyone else might think. Including myself.”  His big hand cradles the cup close to his mouth. “ You’re well aware of the difficulties of such a choice. I won’t lie; it concerns me, of course. I worry about you, both of you, but...”  Uncle shrugs. “ I trust you, Marcus. I’m sure you’ve thought it all through.”   
  
“ We are trying to keep it quiet, you know.”  Marcus protests. Defensive. Childish to his own ears.  
  
“ Oh yes, very quiet. I rarely ever hear you.Though last night was one of those rare occasions.”    
  
Marcus knows he is now a shade of red that is positively unhealthy.   
  
Uncle apparently finds it most entertaining. “ I haven’t always been old, Marcus. Brigid and I kept our neighbors awake a few nights ourselves. Talented little minx she was. Could do this thing with her thumb-”  
  
“ Oh dear god.”  Marcus shudders, covers his face with his hand. Trying to block out the images.   
  
His uncle laughs out loud.   
  
A companionable quiet follows for long moments. Marcus drops his hand and stares out the window, wallowing in the relief of his uncle’s favor.  He didn’t realize until now just how much he’d needed Uncle Max’s approval of this relationship. Of his choice. Of Esca.   
  
“ You seem very happy together.”  Uncle shifts his cup to his other hand.   
  
Marcus glances at his uncle, then turns back to the window view.  Smile curving his mouth. “ We are.”    
  
“ Good, good. That’s as it should be.”  Uncle nods over his cup, settles more easily against the chair back. “ Well, I hope you don’t faff about like you did with Cottia.”  
  
Marcus’ turn to chuckle. “ No, Uncle. I won’t.” 

**end**


	2. Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep isn't always restful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Marcus and Esca of _The Eagle (of the Ninth)_ belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. 
> 
> **Inspired by:** My own ridiculous nightmares. 
> 
> **Story Notes:** The first part (Esca) occurs sometime after the events of _Fall Back in Love Eventually_ , essentially after Esca moves in with Marcus. Again, my chronology is always a bit loose :) The second part occurs several years after that. As in, they are in a very stable, long term relationship. I tried to find a plausible rank that Marcus could achieve in 2 years and still be similar in responsibility to his rank in _The Eagle_ \- so just suspend your disbelief for this, lol.

He’s not sure what wakes him, at first.   
  
Marcus blinks into the darkness and frowns. And blinks some more. Dim, gray light spills into the bedroom. Soft, deep shadows laying heavy on the sparse furnishings, in the corners.    
  
Soft shadows covering, accenting, sharpening Esca’s features; wiry body nestled against his side. Shadows moving with him.   
  
It’s the whimpering, Marcus realizes. Tiny little hitches in Esca’s breathing, an almost childish sound escaping his slightly parted lips.  Pained, lost. Marcus eases further onto his side, looking down at his sleeping lover.  Esca twitches.   
  
A glint in the low light. A trail from each eye, streaming down into Esca’s ears. Crying. His Esca is crying.  Marcus splays his hand on Esca’s chest, feeling the heartbeat thundering inside. “ Esca... Wake up, Esca.”   He watches, careful not to hover too close, not to startle or frighten.   
  
The grey eyes snap open, blinking stupidly.  Expression infinitely hurt, hands grasping tightly.   
  
Esca gasps and sniffles quietly for a moment as Marcus soothes and pets.  “ Shhhh, you’re okay. Just a dream, Esca. You’re okay.”  He rubs gentle circles in the center of the younger man’s chest.   
  
Now Esca looks bewildered, and almost amused. A quiet chuckle between sniffs. “ F-fucking weird dreams.”  He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. Smiles shakily up. “ Sorry I woke you up, Mar-marcus. ”   
  
Marcus shakes his head, slides both arms around the trembling body, pulling Esca closer. “ Don’t worry ‘bout it.”  He brushes the flushed face, thumb attempting to wipe away the tears. “ Tell me about it?”  He offers, though he doubts Esca will tell him.  These kinds of things are so... personal. Even after all this time together, it’s hard to expose these silly weaknesses.  
  
Esca turns onto his side, into Marcus’ embrace.  His hand grips the back of Marcus’ t-shirt. Tight, seeking strength. Presses his forehead against Marcus’ chest.  “ Just, stupid. Don’t remember exactly what happened, I think...” Sucking in a deep breath, laughing again. “ I think we were fighting. You wouldn’t talk to me, I remember that. Pissed or maybe you just never- and-”  Long pause. Marcus knows Esca is trying hard to remember. “ We were leaving, or something, going away. Different places. But you wouldn’t talk to me. ”  Blatant hurt. “ I remember riding a long way beside you. Looking out the window. Lots of countryside. And just wanting so fucking bad to turn around and tell you _something_.”   
  
It hurts Marcus, to hear this pain. He rubs Esca’s back, kisses the top of his head. Encouraging, comforting.   
  
“ And then some house- didn’t recognize it- and a thunderstorm. Grabbed a bottle of whiskey, outside, screaming at you. “  Esca moves his head, nose brushing against Marcus’ shirt. “ Just a bunch of ‘ Fuck you’s and totally pissed at you and me both. And I think I fell. I... I was on the ground, looking up, bottle still in hand. Just giving up. Crying like a complete bint and then you came looking for me and I just kept saying I was sorry, over and over. ”   
  
Marcus squeezes tight, fingers slipping into the mussed hair. Cradling his lover. After everything that’s happened between them, it’s a bit ironic that Esca is the one having nightmares of abandonment.  It’s also utterly heartbreaking.  Marcus presses his mouth against his lover’s crown. “ Esca... I love you.”   
  
“ Silly sod. I know.”  Esca pulls away, tilting his face up. Marcus kisses him, tender and slow and tainted by a desperate need to reassure.   It breaks apart softly and Esca merely settles in place, his grip relaxing as his breathing evens out. “ Love you. Sleep.”    
  
Marcus chuckles this time. He closes his eyes, though he resists sleep. Instead, Marcus enjoys the quiet warmth of Esca’s breath on his neck.   
  


* * *

  
  
_Fucking sand. God, he hates sand. And it’s everywhere, swirling around in a blinding cloud, grating against every bit of exposed skin.  He can’t see anyone. Only shadows, twisting in and out of view. Can’t hear anything but the roar of the wind and the heavy shelling nearby. And that haunting call of prayer that never fucking stops here._  
  
 _Can’t see anyone. Panicking. Ripping his helmet off and screaming. He gets a mouth full of sand. Gritting in his teeth. Scraping under his collar. Screams again and sees his friend emerging from the storm. A smile on Jamie’s bare face, casually waving his rifle, laughing._  
  
 _Jamie, who dragged him to safety. Jamie, who sucks at poker. Jamie, who still sends him emails after all these years, with poignant photos of the beautiful, war-torn mosques._  
  
 _Except Jamie’s dead because he stuck a revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Just last week._  
  
 _Jamie calls his name, still grinning. Pointing over his shoulder._  
  
 _Turns to look. Slammed with a wave of sand. Jamie’s gone now. No one. Nothing but sand in his eyes and ears and nose and mouth and he’s choking on it. Suffocating. And it doesn’t taste like sand. Metallic. Copper. Thick and organic. Drowning in blood soaked sand and his leg hurts so fucking much and why can’t the muezzin shut the hell up for just five seconds and can’t breathe and can’t breathe-_  
  
 _Marcus..._  
  
 _can’t breathe, can’t breathe-_  
  
 _Marcus..._  
  
 _can’t breathe, can’t-_  
  
“ Marcus! “  
  
He jerks upright, barely conscious of anything except sucking in massive amounts of air and the phantom ache in his right thigh. And the rough hand on his chest. Esca’s hand, callused fingers, scarred palm. Following the erratic rise and fall of his breathing and coaxing it back to normal.  Marcus gasps and chokes, squeezes his eyes shut as the tears rush hot.  Both hands fist in the blankets. Afraid to touch. Afraid of hurting Esca right now.   
  
“ Breathe, love, just breathe, breathe...” Esca’s voice quiet and soothing in his ear. Beautiful voice. “ I’m here, Marcus. You’re here. You’re here with me. With me, our bed, our bed, Marcus. Just breathe...”  Another hand smoothing along his back.   
  
Marcus manages a few jerky nods to let Esca know that he hears him. Can’t say anything yet. His breathing eases slowly, the minutes ticking by, until he’s reduced to mere sobbing shudders. Leans his head on Esca’s shoulder, unclenches his fists and wraps his arms around him. Gives a shaky, relieved sigh when Esca returns the desperate embrace.   
  
His old lance-corporal in Iraq, now a Lieutenant, back from his latest deployment and unable to face another. A bullet, a picture of his wife; his medals in the bin. Burial this morning.  Marcus attended as a pall bearer.  Hadn’t been able to watch as Jamie’s young widow accepted the flag from his coffin and dropped a handful of daisies into the muddy hole.   
  
And Esca had been waiting for him at home when he returned. With soft touches and none of the stupid platitudes that flowed as freely as the tea at the deceased’s childhood home; his mother pouring cup after cup after cup regardless of her husband’s pleas to let someone else take over the refreshments.   
  
Because this isn’t God’s will. It isn’t fate. It won’t be better tomorrow. And he’ll never get another email loaded down with pics of shell ravaged mosques.   
  
And Esca knows. And Esca doesn’t try to tell him differently.   
  
Marcus is grateful, so very grateful.  For everything. For Esca.    
  
He makes himself swallow the room temperature water his lover is spilling between his lips. Nods again. All he can do is nod. And shake. Marcus lets Esca push him back onto the bed, wipe his wet face with the edge of the sheet. He listens to the soft endearments, the reassuring “ I’m here, I’m here.”  Pushes his face against Esca’s chest and breathes in his familiar scent. Clutches at the warm skin, curls small and trembling in the wiry arms. Weak and unashamed.   
  
Marcus listens to the solid _thudthud_ of Esca’s heartbeat and silently repeats the affirmations.   
  
_I’m here. You’re here... I’m here. You’re here..._

 

**end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kuods' and comments !!!


	3. Enter The Cub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cub makes a memorable entrance into university life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. The bastardization of poor Cub is all my fault. 
> 
> **Story Notes:** Occurs early on in Marcus and Esca’s dating relationship, the first year. For Annie, because I keep making her cry. Now it’s time to make her laugh.

The Glory Days party is an annual tradition at the favored pub near the vet college.   
  
Plenty of beer. More than enough grub. Eclectic music selections.   
  
Entry requirements. Be a vet college student. Wear something from one’s senior year of secondary school.   
  
All classes welcome. Freshman attendance mandatory.   
  
Marcus is wearing his senior year rugby jersey, like every year. The high school athlete. He leans against the bar, deep in conversation with several classmates. Discussing the previous football season and the future of their favorite players.    
  
Esca is wearing his Sex Pistols t-shirt and a smidge of black eye liner, like every year. The high school punk. He stands on the opposite side of the group. They’re careful, so very careful. And it’s easier not to slip up if they aren’t too close together.  But they still laugh and smile together. Best friends to the rest of the world.  
  
Sudden explosion of laughter. Whistles and exclamations. Surprised curses.   
  
Marcus looks toward the front entry. People are clustered about, blocking his view for several moments. Finally, a figure emerges from the chaos and Marcus can only stare, his mouth full of unswallowed beer.   
  
A young freshman. Shaggy, shoulder length silver hair. Tall and lithe, a swimmer’s physique. Strolling through the crowd with complete ease. Grinning ear to ear. Accepting high fives and slaps on the arse with equal aplomb.    
  
It’s Marcus’ protegee, the freshman he’s mentoring, that Esca introduced him to only a few days prior.    
  
Quinlan Bartholomew Collins. Always introduced as ‘Cub’.   
  
He’s dressed in a high school uniform.   
  
A girl’s high school uniform.   
  
Blue and green plaid skirt, knee-length. A white button-up shirt stretched snug across his chest. A matching striped tie. White knees socks and black Converse.   
  
Some of the beer dribbles from Marcus’ mouth before he can get it down his throat. Choking quietly, he watches the group around him breaking up to join in the merriment surrounding the newcomer. Leaving Marcus and Esca alone at the end of the bar, unnoticed.  
  
“ Dear me.” Esca sidles next to Marcus, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “ Cheeky bastard, isn’t he?”  He raises a brow and takes a deep drag, smile huge.   
  
“ Good god, Esca.” Marcus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, takes another sip to ease his rough throat. “ What the hell does he think he’s doing?”   
  
“ Being popular.” Esca chuckles. He holds his cig in two fingers, lightly tapping ash into the tray. “ Very popular, by the looks of it.”   
  
The entire pub seems to flock to the cross-dressing cutie. Marcus and Esca watch as Cub effortlessly moves from simple signs, to proper sign language, to a pad and pen when necessary.  All with that brilliant smile on his finely featured face.    
  
Marcus can’t take his eyes away and that disturbs him a bit. This kid is his protegee. His underclassmen. Practically his little brother, but... “ Good god.”  Marcus takes another drink, nearly drops his glass when Cub casually adjusts himself through the skirt, no different than if he were wearing a pair of jeans. Still undeniably masculine in the feminine kit. “ Good god.”    
  
Marcus wonders, if Esca, maybe Esca could borrow something like that from Cottia.  
  
Esca’s voice close to his ear. “ Don’t even think about it, Aquila. “ Wicked smirk, but deadly serious. “ Not gonna happen.”   
  
Marcus frowns. But Cub is coming their way and he puts aside his disappointment. He needs to focus.   
  
On how he’s going to handle this audacious young pup for the next two semesters.   
  
If not longer.

* * *

**end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos' and comments!!!


	4. Bed Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus comes home to find his bed occupied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Marcus and Esca of _The Eagle (of the Ninth)_ belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. This horrid bastardization of Cub is totally my fault. 
> 
> **Inspired by:** Cold nights. 
> 
> **Story Notes:** Occurs a year or so after the events of _Fall Back in Love Eventually_ , essentially after Cubmoves in with Marcus and Esca. Again, my chronology is always a bit loose :)

Marcus quietly shuts the door behind him and slowly ambles to the bed. Very carefully sits on the edge. Smiles at the sight before him.  
  
Esca and Cub, loosely entwined on the far side of the mattress, beneath the quilts. Silver hair- long and messy- layered with light brown hair- shorter and wilder.  Flushed ivory skin. Lightly tanned fair skin. A perfectly smooth cheek laying under a stubble rough chin.   Cub’s thin arm tossed over Esca’s middle.  Esca’s broad hand gently resting on Cub’s elbow.    
  
Slow rise and fall of their chests, breathing soft and shallow in sleep. Peaceful.   
  
Marcus places his hand on Esca’s shoulder, whispering his lover’s name.  
  
A small sigh, rustle under the blankets. Amber lashes fluttering open on heavy lids. “ Marcus?”  Esca seems confused for a moment, looking down at the silver head sharing his pillow. He starts a bit, eyes wider, though remaining still so as not to disturb Cub. “ This looks bad.”   
  
Shaking his head, Marcus chuckles and cups the side of Esca’s face in his big hand. Reassuring. “ It’s alright. No jealous fits, promise.”   He smiles again. Then lets it fade away as he rests his palm on Cub’s flushed cheek. “ Fever’s down, but not gone.” Marcus brushes a few strands of silver from the warm forehead. Thumb gently smoothing a dark circle under silver lashes. “ Seems to be sleeping easier, though. You convince him to stay here, instead of toughing it out in his own room?”   Marcus knows the radiator is still broken in Cub’s room and Cub doesn’t like to use the electric heater.  Something about the smell.   
  
“ No. I found him in here when I came home. Didn’t have the heart to make him get up. ”  Esca grins up, sleepy-eyed again, and pulls Marcus’ head down for a kiss on his lips. “ And I wasn’t about to pass up the bed out of decency after I finished my shift.  Right knackered.”  He lets go, expression serious, concerned. “ I know you’re tired. C’mon.”   Esca eases onto his side, turning toward Cub.  Giving Marcus more room on the bed.   
  
Marcus slips onto the mattress, making sure the blankets still cover the other two men as he gets enough to cover himself. He’s delighted by the satiny, heated skin of Esca’s back pressing against his bare chest.  His hand nestles between Esca and Cub, the thick flannel of his own robe on the younger man’s body velvety soft against his knuckles.    
  
A silent, amused smile. Marcus’ toes lightly brush Cub’s shins; the young man is as tall as Marcus, but has snuggled his way so far down the bed to get his head to rest close to Esca’s chest that his feet are hanging off the end.   
  
Marcus sits up and makes sure another quilt is securely tucked all around the partially exposed  feet.   
  
He settles back down, kissing the nape of Esca’s neck. “ Off tomorrow, right?”  
  
“ Mmmhmm,” Esca is nearly alseep.   
  
“ Cub, as well?” Marcus nuzzles the cropped ear, inhaling the scent of sweat and soap and faded aftershave.   
  
Another affirmative noise, followed by a soft groan.   
  
Marcus readjusts his hold, firming it up. He smiles and closes his eyes, intent on an excellent night’s sleep.   
  


* * *

  
It takes him a moment, but Marcus finally awakens.  
  
Someone is moving in the bed.  Twitchy, jerking motions.  Rustle of sheets and clothing against skin.  Marcus lies silent, just listening.  It’s not Esca. He knows this now.  Remembers that Cub is on the other side of Esca, tucked between his lover and a quilt shoved against the wall.    
  
He opens his eyes, adjusts to the darkness in the room. Marcus leans up slightly to look over Esca’s shoulder.   His brow furrows, confused at the sight. It is Cub. The young man moves under the blanket against Esca’s body. His mouth is opening and closing  and Marcus thinks if Cub was capable of sound then the room would be full of pathetic little whimpers.  The pale face is twisted up, the slender fingers caught in spasm on Esca’s shoulder.   
  
Nightmares?  Marcus leans a bit closer, brushes the long bangs from Cub’s forehead. Cub turns into the contact, heated exhale leaving his lips.   
  
Wet dreams. Marcus grins, sympathetic and highly amused and pondering the best course of action.   
  
“ Marcus?”   
  
Freezing in place. Marcus angles his head to look directly below him. Esca’s eyes are wide open, looking up. His voice is tight, strained.  Obviously, Esca is not immune to the sexy young body grinding against his front. Marcus wants to laugh again. Instead, he kisses Esca’s temple and shifts to get his hand comfortably between the two warm bodies.   
  
It’s a simple thing, to find the bulge in Cub’s pajama bottoms between the loose halves of the flannel robe. To loosely grip the firmness inside the cotton and begin to stroke. Short and slow, squeezing carefully.  The back of his hand rubs against Esca’s thigh. Marcus props himself on an elbow; better view, better access. Unconsciously rubbing his hips against Esca’s rear.   
  
Stuttering breath, from Esca and Cub.    
  
An open mouth, sharp teeth exposed.  Marcus can hear the needy mewls in his head even though Cub is silent; except for the heavy breathing.   
  
Not long. A few good strokes of Marcus’ hand. Some whispered affections in Esca’s Gaelic.   
  
Cub’s fingers tighten on the blanket, hips unsteady, broken rhythm.  Sighing so very softly, falling slack.   
  
Marcus can’t deny the rush he feels as Cub stiffens, wet warmth leaking through the fabric to his hand.  The younger man goes limp and Marcus and Esca work together to roll him onto his back. Loosen the thick robe and knock away a blanket to keep the poor sick boy from overheating.   
  
Now, it’s their turn.   
  
Marcus watches Esca tuck Cub’s near hand on top of the blanket. Safe and out of the way.  Esca immediately grabs Marcus’ hand and thrusts it down the front of his pajama pants, writhing softly, bucking into his broad palm.  Giving voice to the little moans Cub was unable to utter moments before.   
  
Fingers curling around hard flesh, tugging smoothly.    
  
He grunts quietly as Esca grinds back and forth, between his hand and his groin. Marcus craves more skin to skin, needs it.  He uses the hand in Esca’s pants to pull them further down the man’s thighs. Arse and cock completely accessible. Marcus pulls his own cock free and slides it between his lover’s tightly closed thighs.   
  
Sweaty skin, beautiful friction.   
  
Esca groans. Marcus sucks at the vulnerable joining of neck and shoulder as he thrusts.  He’s still trying to restrain himself, not disturb Cub sleeping right there who would be perfectly mortified by this scene.  Small, controlled motions. Swallowing the louder vocalizations.  Esca trembles in his embrace, his hand covering Marcus’, directing the ministrations to his cock.   
  
Movement. Silver head turning. Glimpse of dark eyes.   
  
Cub kissing Esca on the mouth.   
  
That seems to be the final straw for Esca. He stiffens, a low groan choked off.  Marcus flinches as the blunt fingernails dig into his hand. Then that precious wet heat covers his fingers, spurt after spurt.   
  
Marcus closes his eyes and holds Esca almost tenderly as he quickens his own pace, seeking his own release.  It comes within a few gut wrenching thrusts. Spilling out, spattering Esca’s skin, soiling the sheets.   
  
A deep shuddery breath. Slumping onto Esca. Gazing at Cub.   
  
Marcus regains his faculties and clumsily removes his own pajama bottoms, wipes down the affected areas, tosses the garment on the floor.  Silence. Comfortable, yet, expectant.  He gets the topmost blanket dumped onto the floor with his pajama pants. Pushing the blankets down, exposing flushed chests, weak arms.  Marcus props himself on his elbow again.  Kisses the outer corner of Esca’s eye. Lifts Cub’s hand to his lips, kisses the back.   
  
Dark eyes solemn. Fingers forming the signs. Was that okay?  No guilt in Cub’s expression, merely a sincere curiosity.   
  
Esca snorts. “ Go back to sleep, mate.”   
  
Marcus reaches up and musses the silver hair, gently tweaking Cub’s nose as his hand retreats. “ Listen to your elders, child.”   He chuckles when Cub shrugs and closes his eyes, head still turned toward them.   Marcus lowers his head onto the pillow.  
  
Quiet breathing. Intensity gone. Contentment in the darkness. Marcus briefly wonders how this will all play out in the morning.   
  
It’s not important now, though.   
  
Now, Marcus is sated and tired and wrapped around Esca and touching Cub’s elbow.

* * *

end  
  



	5. Crying, In Two Parts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First times are not always happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Marcus, Esca, Uncle and Procyon of _The Eagle (of the Ninth)_ belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. 
> 
> **Story Notes:** Both about the first time they see the other one cry. The first occurs before the events of _Fall Back in Love Eventually_ , early on in their relationship (before they've even said the L-word to each other). The second occurs before that, within the first year they met. Again, my chronology is always a bit loose :)
> 
> **For Annie.**

_Part I_  
  
A collision in the rain.  
  
Bloke on his mobile, not paying attention, running the red light. Slamming into the side of Marcus’ car. Car totaled. Marcus aching, but generally unharmed.  
  
Marcus gets a ride home in the RAC lorry , cursing as he realizes his mobile is irreparably damaged.  He uses his Uncle’s phone to ring the clinic, let his professor know that he’ll be late coming in tomorrow.  Falls asleep on the couch watching an _East Enders_ marathon.    
  
Esca stops by the flat.  Worried when he heard the news, panicking when he couldn’t get hold of Marcus on his mobile.  
  
A few moments of concerned questions, sheepish answers, reassuring touches.  Then relieved laughter and simple dinner of pizza take-away.  Marcus lazes on the couch. Esca goes outside to smoke.  
  
He’s gone several minutes when Marcus notices the packet of cigs on the coffee table, cheap lighter resting on top.  Marcus eases off the couch, grabs the packet and lighter. Heads out the back door.  
  
It’s damp and chilly and dark on the stoop.  Clean scent of rain. The door opens silently, Marcus stepping outside on bare feet. Searching for Esca.  
  
He hears him before he sees him. A small sniffling, rustle of denim on the concrete.  
  
Marcus makes a face, shuffles toward the shadowy figure.  
  
Esca is sitting on the edge of the porch, hunched over, face buried in his broad hands. Marcus can see his shoulders shaking. Hear the quiet gasping.  “ Esca?”  He’s never seen Esca cry before.  
  
Jumping at his voice. Quickly scrubbing at his face. Esca doesn’t look up. “ Be a moment.” His voice is rough edged, the lilt sounds forced, tight. “ Almost done.”  
  
Marcus aches with sympathy and guilt. He carefully settles himself beside Esca. Holds out the packet and lighter.    
  
Esca takes them with a shaky hand. And covers his face as his breathing grows ragged once more.  
  
A simple motion. Uncaring of who might possibly be watching. Marcus slips his arm across Esca’s shoulders, pulling him in tight. Warm. Esca wraps both arms around Marcus, wet face pushing against his neck.    
  
Marcus rests his cheek on Esca’s head and murmurs comforting nonsense.

 

* * *

_Part II_

“ He’s suffering, my boy.” Uncle Max’s voice is gentle. The hand on Marcus’ shoulder is firm. “ There’s nothing left to be done.”  
  
Marcus nods. If he opens his mouth protests will be the only thing to escape and his uncle doesn’t need to hear them. He’s heard them all before, for months now.  While Marcus struggled with medications, new therapies, farmer’s remedies. Anything and everything to help better the wolfhound’s condition.  
  
But Procyon is simply too old. Marcus can’t fight the ravages of time.  
  
Acute arthritis. Seizures. And most recently, osteosarcoma. Bone cancer in the back leg.  It’s this new menace that decided the dog’s fate. Uncle Max will not watch his faithful companion deteriorate, from either chemo or amputation.  Marcus reluctantly agreed. But refused to take Procyon to the clinic for the procedure.  A cold, sterile room is not the way to go. Not even for an animal. Especially not this animal.  
  
“ I can do it, if you’d rather.” Same gentle voice, so understanding of youth’s vulnerabilities. Of Marcus’ stubborn nature.  
  
Marcus shakes his head. He’s put down animals before. It’s part of his training.  
  
He dug the hole that morning. Near the lilac bush.  
  
Uncle Max carries the old dog downstairs, outside to the small back garden. Not much growing yet in early spring, but the air is warm and fresh.  Carefully places Procyon on a large tartan blanket, his favorite bed brought down from Uncle’s study.  The dog whimpers slightly at the movement then quiets, seemingly consoled by the sunshine warming his fur and the two men close by.  
  
Marcus watches Uncle Max crouch down to pet the large head, listens as he says his goodbyes in two different languages.  Marcus kneels on the damp ground, despite the tightness in his right thigh, next to the blanket. Syringes and glass bottle in hand.  He can barely stand it.  
  
Needle in flesh. A small dose.  
  
Procyon closes his eyes, tongue lolling happily from his mouth as his master strokes his neck.  Sleeping peacefully within a few seconds.  
  
Uncle Max nods. Rises slowly.  Marcus knows the man wants to ask him if he’s certain, wants to offer his assistance again. He also knows that Uncle Max won’t ask.  There’s a big hand on his shoulder, squeezing almost too hard. Then Uncle Max walks back inside. “ I’ll put on a pot of tea.”  
  
Marcus knows the whiskey bottle will be on the tea tray, as well.  
  
He waits until the door shuts.  Sticks the point into the bottle, draws up the clear liquid.  
  
It’s tempting. Marcus doesn’t have to do this. A myriad of desperate scenarios run through his thoughts.    
  
Procyon huffs contentedly in his sleep.  Free of pain.  
  
Needle in flesh. Fatal dose.  
  
He puts a hand on the dog’s side, counting the slow _thudthud_ of his heart until there is nothing left to count and he simply leaves his hand there. Feels the burning in his eyes, lets the tears gather and fall.  
  
The back door opens. Marcus doesn’t look up.  
  
Scent of tobacco smoke as a hand squeezes his shoulder. “ Your uncle said you could use some help. “  Esca crouches beside him, picking up the used syringes and bottle, sealing them in the bio-hazard pouch Marcus had brought.  Putting it out of sight.  
  
Touch on his back. Steadying.  
  
Marcus thinks he should be ashamed to bawl in front of this underclassman. Not very professional of him. Or mentor-like. Or manly.  
  
But Esca’s his best friend. Who else is he supposed to bawl in front of?  
  
Marcus finally meets Esca’s sympathetic gaze, for a very brief second, and whispers a rough, “ Thanks.”  He wipes his nose on his shirt sleeve. Doesn’t bother with the tears.  
  
Marcus takes his hand away from the sun-warmed fur and begins pulling the edges of the blanket over the still form.

* * *

**end**


	6. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because silence is a blessing and a curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Marcus and Esca and Cub of _The Eagle (of the Ninth)_ belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. This horrid bastardization of Cub is my fault.
> 
>  **Story Notes:** Occurs after the events of _Bed Sharing_ , after Cub moves in with Marcus and Esca. Again, my chronology is always a bit loose :)

Two slick fingers twist inside him.  He writhes beside the broader body, against well defined muscles, heated skin.  Mouth at his neck, biting gently.  Pushes his fingers into the dark hair.  
  
He wants this. So badly. Begged for it with that look that he knows Marcus can’t deny. All dark eyes and quirked mouth and ‘Why not?’ written clearly across his expression. He shouldn’t have done that.    
  
More cool liquid heating up inside him. Friction practically nonexistent. He bucks, cock grinding against that flat belly. Sweat building up between them.  That hand... those fingers thrusting, thumb dragging across the swell of his arse.  
  
He wants this. Wanted it for so long but was never certain.  Did Marcus want him? Would Marcus feel guilty? Would it ruin the friendship? Would Esca even allow it? Or forgive it? So many unknowns.  But he wants this. So, of course, he begged.  
  
Suddenly empty. He frowns into the darkness, but realizes the necessity. Moves before the other man can. Pushing, straddling narrow hips.  He finds the bottle and coats the thick length beneath him. Hunching awkwardly, holding it steady as he lowers himself.  
  
He’s never done this before. Marcus doesn’t know. He didn’t see any reason to tell the older man. Marcus is sentimental that way, giving more weight to his virginity than needed. They’ve done other things; pleasures of hand and mouth. Freely given and received.  This shouldn’t be any different.  
  
It hurts. Bigger than the fingers.  He’s thankful for the heavy hands on his hips, forcibly slowing him as he flinches and gasps.  Distantly amused by the silly encouragements floating up to him. Puts his own hands on the mattress. Fists the sheets. Eases down bit by tiny bit.  
  
He’s waited more than two years for this.  He tried, that one time, when Marcus was so vulnerable without Esca. To comfort, yes. He had wanted to take away- for just a few sweaty moments- that horrid loneliness from Marcus’ eyes.  And been rejected. Upset, but understanding.  So he waited...  
  
Skin on skin. Filled. Aching burning stretch. He falls to one forearm, face pressing into the pillow, silver hair splaying wildly. There’s mouthing along his jaw, just below his ear. Kissing, soothing. Sweet agony as he moves despite the protests. Moving. Lifting and falling, imperfect rhythm. He sits up and rocks his hips until the pain melts. Morphing into heat and pleasure.  
  
He waited until Esca left. Just for a week; a professional conference in Spain. He didn’t plan it, not consciously. Just knew this morning, the third day. He was horny. Marcus was horny. And both a bit lonely without Esca around (He misses Esca, as well. Loves him, in his own way.) It’s not as though this changes anything between them.  
  
Still moving, always moving. Can’t stop now. He can’t stop. Soft noises from below, grunts and groans and quiet obscenities. Reaching back to place his hands on raised knees. Finding the large swathe of scar tissue on the thigh with his fingertips.  Gentle touch, soft touch. The hold on his cock is a bit stronger, that big hand twisting and stroking in a most expert manner.  
  
He knows this won’t change anything between them.  Because Marcus loves Esca. And Esca loves Marcus.  And he lost hope of that ever changing a very long time ago. That spark was purposely extinguished, smothered by hero worship and acceptance of his place within these dynamics. He is the protegee. The little brother. The temporary third wheel.  He simply has to make the most of what he has been given and for the most part he is content.  
  
Thrusting up now, into his body. A hand on his cock. A hand on his hip. Letting the other man control him now.  Heat pooling low in his belly, tensing, bringing him to the edge as he’s taken over. Flash of green eyes, drag of thumb over the wet tip. His whole world narrows to the point of physical joining. Of muscle spasms and choking breath and hot spurts across their skin. Heavy scent of salt and musk. He shudders, falls forward. Kisses those full lips while the body beneath him seizes in pleasure. Listens to the animalistic groan with a satisfied smile.  
  
He wishes. He wishes he could speak, to give back the meaningless vocalizations that mean so much in this moment. Marcus spills endearments, compliments, and incoherent mumblings into his ear as generously as he spills his seed into his body.  Sweet words sincerely offered with no expectations.  He wishes he could offer the same. But. He’s certain he would only say something incredibly stupid.  
  
Sated and cooling much too quickly. He’ll move soon. To clean up. To snuggle up. To sleep. He wants to stay here for a moment longer, though. With those arms around him. With those hands petting him. With that voice cooing softly into his hair.    
  
He moves his mouth against Marcus’ neck, hidden. Forming the words, saying all those incredibly stupid things for no one to hear.  
  
Sometimes silence is truly a blessing.

* * *

**end**


	7. 1+1+1= Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esca doesn't know if this will work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Marcus and Esca and Cub of _The Eagle (of the Ninth)_ belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. This horrid bastardization of Cub is my own fault.
> 
>  **Story Notes:** Occurs a couple years after the events of _Fall Back in Love Eventually_ , essentially after Cub is fully settled in the flat with Marcus and Esca. Again, my chronology is always a bit loose :) Also, Cub uses BSL (British Sign Language) because that is the form I'm most familiar with.

Esca doesn’t know if this will work out.  
  
Polyamorous relationships rarely work out. Never stay balanced properly. Insecurities increasing with each individual added to the equation.  
  
And with Cub...  
  
Esca likes the boy. He truly does. Cub is attractive, sweet, intelligent. An adorable puppy of a young man.  Who is mostly attached at the hip to Marcus. Not only attraction, but a true sense of admiration and loyalty.  Marcus is his role model. His hero.  
  
Which is merely one reason among many why this little arrangement irks Esca.  
  
Not just in regards to Cub. But Marcus, as well.  
  
Esca knows that, eventually, Cub will outgrow this. He will come into his own and find someone who meets his needs in ways Marcus never will and then leave the nest, as it were. They’ll always be his adopted brothers, his mentors, his friends.  And Esca is perfectly happy as such.  
  
But he worries about how Marcus will take it. The inevitable breaking apart of this little family unit he has so carefully put together.  
  
Esca stares blankly out the kitchen window, efficiently washing the dishes as he ponders the complexities of his quiet life.  He can’t help but smile as the subjects of his thoughts enter the back gate.  
  
Cub is smeared head to toe in mud. Marcus has his hand on the back of the boy’s head, keeping him aimed toward the back door. Cub appears less than contrite. Marcus appears highly agitated.  Esca continues with the dishes as the two enter the kitchen.  
  
“ Dammit, Cub! I told you to wait!” Marcus pushes the younger man into the kitchen, taking his hand away to wipe on a towel.  
  
Cub shrugs, walking backward as he signs. _‘ You said later. It was later.’_  Obtuse, as always.  
  
“ Quinlan Bartholomew Collins, you know what I meant!” Marcus throws the soiled towel into the corner. He turns to Esca, anger softening a bit into apology. “ I’m sorry, Esca. I’ve got to get back to the clinic, but this stupid git needs to be clean before his interview this afternoon.”  Marcus huffs, scowling at the mud tracks on the tile floor. “ Could you...?”  
  
Finding it difficult to hide his smirk, Esca waves dismissively. “ Spank his arse for playing in the mud?”  He takes a couple steps and catches the frowning mouth with his lips, a hand at the nape of the strong neck. Esca feels the tension lessen in Marcus’ frame. He smiles encouragingly as he pulls back. “ Go on, then. I’ll see to it.”  
  
“ Thanks.”  Marcus takes a deep breath, arm lingering around Esca’s waist. “ Make sure he wears the blue tie, not that god-awful yellow one.”   He glances behind Esca and the tension returns.  
  
Esca turns his head and heaves a sigh. Cub has already stripped off his clothes and stands naked in the kitchen with the curtains and back door wide open.  Dark eyes watching Esca and Marcus. Esca pushes Marcus out the door. “ Relax or the horses will give you hell.”    
  
Marcus grumbles incoherently. Esca listens until the man exits the gate, car engine roaring to life in the alley behind the house.  
  
Shut the back door. Pull the curtains over the window.  
  
Esca isn’t surprised to find Cub still standing in place. He chuckles softly and goes back to the dishes. “ Go wash up.”   He doesn’t have to add We’ll talk after. Cub knows he’s in for it.  
  


* * *

  
Twenty minutes pass. Esca has mopped up the mud tracks, tossed the dirty clothes into a hamper to prevent more mud spatters. He dries his hands, slowly, staring toward the front of the flat. Esca can hear Cub mucking around upstairs in his bedroom.  He drops the towel on the counter and heads up.  
  
He is too young for this shit. To have the responsibility of a kid. Two kids, if he counts Marcus and most days he does.  
  
Upstairs, Cub’s door is open. As usual.  Cub is sitting on the floor by the bed, amidst a scattered heap of clothing. Damp hair pulled up on top, long bangs kept out of his eyes with a simple black hair bauble. He’s still naked.  
  
He did manage to remember to sit on a towel, though.  
  
Esca pauses in the hall and knocks with the back of his knuckles. “ Need some help?”  He should have made Marcus stay to do this.  But Esca is pretty sure that Marcus is part of this particular problem.  
  
Cub shrugs and nods simultaneously. And goes back to lazily picking through an assortment of ties; most are from Marcus and Esca’s closet. The aforementioned yellow tie- with tiny gray sheep scattered across its buttercup colored silk- hangs loosely around his neck.  
  
Esca makes his way across the messy floor without stepping on anything too important. Eases onto the edge of the bed and studies the boy and his predicament. “ Football?”  
  
The silver head nods.  
  
“ In the east meadow?”  
  
Another nod.  
  
Esca picks up the blue tie. “ Did Marcus catch you or did the bull run you out?”  The bull has been in rut for at least a week. The more stubborn students test its tolerance at every opportunity.  
  
Cub grins.  Esca knows it was the bull. He would not be smiling if Marcus had dragged him out by the ear in front of his mates.  
  
He puts the blue tie on the bed, spreading it neatly over the pillow. “ Is this about the interview with Worthington Farms?”   Esca continues when Cub makes no reply. “ You know why Marcus wants you to work there, don’t you?”  Cub knocks a dress shirt to the side. Sullen. “ It’s important to him to see you succeed. You’ll have the best chance there. And you’ll be working with Cottia.”  Cub has a certain soft spot in his heart for Cottia and Esca does not mind taking advantage of it.  
  
The young man tosses a light grey button-up onto the bed. Cub huffs and rolls to his knees. Between Esca’s knees. Turns those glorious dark eyes up and begins to unbutton Esca’s fly.  
  
Esca raises a brow. “ You know this doesn’t work on me.”  It works on Marcus, nearly every time. Distracts the older man into indulging Cub with whatever catches the boy’s fancy. Or forgiving his numerous scrapes.  
  
Of course, Cub could just be horny and Esca is convenient.  
  
Cub slumps back, leaving Esca’s half hard cock exposed in the open fly. _‘ I want to work with Marcus.’_  He plays with his own flaccid member almost idly; obviously not seeking any arousal, just... enjoying the skin to skin contact.  
  
Esca doesn’t stop him. At least he’s doing it in his own bedroom. “ The college clinic isn’t hiring right now and you know Cottia’s family has the most sophisticated veterinary complex in the entire country. You’d have access to equipment that the college could never afford.” He watches the slender hands slow and finally cease their manhandling of flesh; they move on to the ends of the gaudy tie.  “ Your pay-packet will be heavier, as well. You know the college doesn’t pay much. ” Marcus will make a bit more once Dr. Stephen’s retires in a few years, but he will never make the annual sum of his Worthington Farms’ counterparts.  
  
 _‘ Pigs, Esca! I hate fucking pigs!_ ‘ Cub’s hands move through the signs with a sharp resentment. One lashes out and sends a stack of folded towels toward the far wall.  Pouting, angry. Scared.  
  
“ They have other animals, but yes, they make their money on pigs and pigs are what you will most likely be spending your time with. “  Esca keeps his voice calm, his expression understanding.  Cub shuffles on his haunches, moving away from Esca, back onto his towel. “ I’m sure there will be opportunities to work with the sheep once you’ve gotten your degree.”    
  
Cub throws a pair of trousers on the bed. Petulant and resentful.  
  
Esca has to duck to keep from being hit in the face. “ Think about the experience you’ll be getting. A solid foundation to be accepted to any veterinary practice in the country. “ He finds a pair of clean pants by his foot and puts them next to the trousers. “ Marcus and Cottia worked hard to get you this opportunity. Don’t be a brat and blow it just because of some silly crush you have on Marcus. You can’t hide behind him forever, Cub.”    
  
He’s gone too far. He can tell by the look in Cub’s eyes. And yet, Marcus isn’t the whole reason for that frightened expression.  
  
Cub rolls to his feet, stumbling as he gets tangled in a vest. He pulls a pair of jeans from the floor. Esca knows he’s about to dress in his casuals and run off to find Drew at the pub, drown his fear and agitation in a few pints of bitters.  Missing his interview and thwarting Marcus.  
  
Esca sets his jaw and jumps up. He grabs hold of the ends of the tie and pulls Cub’s face down to his own. Anger and a hint of desperation. “ You can do this, Cub. You are good enough to do this!  Top of your class! Special recommendations all over! Why are you so bloody determined to fuck this up?!”    
  
Standing stark naked, with only the tie around his neck. A full head taller than Esca. Cub’s cheeks burn furiously. His fists and jaw clench.  Dark eyes averted. Wet at the corners.  
  
Esca quiets, releases the tie. He continues to look up into the handsome face. “ You and Marcus; couple of sentimental twats, aren’t you? “  Maybe he’d underestimated Cub’s dependence on Marcus. On this little family unit the three of them had conjured. Maybe Cub and Marcus would both have a hard time letting go when the time comes. Esca slips his hand behind Cub’s head, cups his palm over the back of his neck. Rubs gently. “ We’ll always be here for you, silly sod. If you come home with the job, or if you come home without it. It’s not going to change that. No matter where you work or live, Marcus would hunt you down if you ever did try to run off, you know.”    
  
Cub sniffles once. Still won’t look Esca in the eye, but he nods.  
  
“ He just wants what’s best for you. And so do I.” Esca bumps his forehead against Cub’s, then backs up a step. “ So do your best for him, right?  It’s all he ever asks in return.”   He grabs the pants from the bed, puts them in Cub’s hand. “ Get dressed. I’ll fix your tie when you’re done.”    
  
Another nod, then Cub gives Esca a very brief, tight, hug.  He takes the yellow tie from his neck and drops it on the bed. Picks up the blue one. Holds it out to Esca.  
  
Shaking his head, smiling, Esca reaches past Cub. And takes the yellow tie as he leaves the room.  “ Just come downstairs when you’re fully dressed.”

* * *

**end**


	8. The Right Kit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the clothes make the man. And sometimes the man makes what should be a nondescript button-up and trousers utterly irresistible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Marcus and Esca, Cottia and Cub of _The Eagle (of the Ninth)_ belong to Rosemary Sutcliffe. This horrid bastardization of Cub is my own fault. 
> 
> **Inspired by:** _What is Love_ by Haddaway. 
> 
> **Story Notes:** Occurs several years after the events of _Fall Back in Love Eventually_ , when everyone is living happily ever after. :D

Cottia is the birthday girl. And the birthday girl chose the most popular, outlandish gay club in Paris for her small, celebratory gathering.  
  
The birthday girl dressed him herself and Marcus is not entirely comfortable. The white button-up shirt is too snug across his chest. Long sleeves rolled above his elbows; tight as hell.  Buttoned all the way up to his neck with a rather drab tie, dark blue with silver pinstripes. Neat silver pin tack. A pair of dark jeans.  She wouldn’t let him wear a pair of trainers, though, forcing him into a worn pair of dress blacks.  
  
All in all, Marcus doesn’t think he looks bad. He simply doesn’t see the appeal of the Harry Potter look.    
  
Musing, he looks out over the dance floor, gaze picking out his friends.  
  
Cottia is wearing her old Catholic school uniform, with the skirt scandalously short and bra peeking out of the shirt.  She’s dancing with Cub. Who’s wearing almost exactly the same thing as Cottia; different colors, slightly longer skirt.  He was a smash the second he entered the club and Marcus had been surprised when the young man pulled himself away from the admiring throngs long enough to dance with Marcus.  Some of that old affection still lingering, apparently.  The two young ones seem perfectly at home in this cacophony of bass and glitter.  
  
Marcus smiles, looks around for his lover. For Esca.    
  
Upon finding him, Marcus thinks maybe he understands the appeal of this school boy look.  
  
On Esca, it’s very fetching. His shirt is neither too loose nor too tight, but skimming his lean form perfectly.  Sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing the finely veined forearms.  A few buttons are left undone at the collar, simple black tie pulled loose. His jeans couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the dark, distressed denim they are. Finished off with his favorite Converse.  
  
Marcus finishes his beer while he watches Esca dancing. He moves from partner to partner, song to song, with great ease.  Nothing fancy, nothing too bump-and-grind. Just dancing, enjoying the music with simple motion.  He enjoys watching. The lithe form moves gracefully. Those wiry arms wrap around a waist.  Big hand wiping the sweat from under his messy hair.  Broad smile flashing under the strobe light.    
  
Laughing, sweating, grinning. The most beautiful thing Marcus has ever seen and that familiar heat in the pit of his stomach flares up.    
  
Softened by the equally familiar warmth in his chest.  
  
And then Esca is coming toward him, beckoning.  
  
Marcus grins, finishes his beer in two swallows. Pushes his mouth against Esca’s and allows himself to be hauled onto the dance floor.  

* * *

**the end**

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to everyone who reads, kudos' and comments!!!


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